The Westing Game (Puffin Modern Classics) by Raskin Ellen

Author:Raskin, Ellen [Raskin, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Puffin
Published: 2004-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

“Where’s everybody?” The apartment was empty, as usual. Jake Wexler decided that Shin Hoo’s was going to have a paying customer.

“I’d like a table, if you’re not too crowded.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” Hoo said, leading the podiatrist through the empty restaurant. “You must have liked those spareribs.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jake watched his wife slowly stack her papers at the reservations desk. At last, seeming to recognize him, she walked over. Jake returned his unlit cigar to his pocket (Grace hated the smell).

“I’ve already eaten,” Grace said, sitting down.

“Hello to you, too,” Jake replied.

He probably thinks that’s funny. Since when do people go around saying hello to their husbands?

“What’s new with you, Grace? Where are the kids? And what are all those presents doing on the coffee table? It’s not your birthday and it’s not our anniversary.” What was she so upset about? “Or is it?”

“No, it isn’t. Those are gifts for Angela, the wedding shower is tomorrow. Don’t worry, you’re not supposed to be there, just girls. The doorbell was ringing all morning, I couldn’t leave the apartment for an instant; one at a time he delivered them, the smirking fool, and each time he shouted ‘Boom!’ ”

She looked especially attractive today, Jake thought. Between the ringing doorbell and the booms, she had managed time for the beauty parlor and the sunlamp.

Mr. Hoo set the spareribs on the table and lowered himself to a chair.

Grace lost her scowl. “Since you’re here, Jake, I’d like your opinion on the advertising campaign I’m planning. Jimmy and I are having a slight disagreement. I say that Shin Hoo’s sounds like every other Chinese restaurant to English-speaking ears.”

English-speaking ears? Jake bit his lip in an effort to keep silent.

“I say the restaurant needs a name people won’t forget,” Grace continued. “A name like Hoo’s On First.”

Jake could not help himself. He tried to cover a loud guffaw with louder coughing. Hoo pounded him on the back and apologized for the ginger.

“You remember that old baseball routine, Jake,” Grace prompted.

Yes, he did. “Who’s on second? No, What’s on second; Who’s on first.”

“It’s an idiotic name,” Hoo argued. “Hoo’s On First sounds like my restaurant is on First Street, or worse yet, on the first floor. Customers will end up in the coffee shop drinking dishwater tea.”

“Not the way I’ll promote it, they won’t,” Grace insisted. “Well, what’s your opinion, Jake?”

The podiatrist put down the sparerib he was about to bite into. “Hoo’s On First is a dandy name.”

Before he could pick up the rib again, Hoo whisked the plate off the table. “Who elected you judge, anyhow?”

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